Mile High
by Seshat0120
Summary: Sam and Al are a mile up in the air and when a need for medical help arises they may as well 1,000 miles up.


**Mile High**

_by Seshat0120_

_Disclaimer: Quantum Leap and all related characters are owned by Belisarius Productions and Universal. No profit has been made off of the writing or distribution of this piece of fiction._

The tinny voice came over the PA system, "Flight 923 to Salt Lake City with continuing service to Albuquerque is now boarding at Gate 12."

Sam felt a hand slap against his knee and heard a voice saying, "That's us. Let's get a move on." Both the voice and the slap jarred him from the light doze he'd slipped into. Wearily pushing up from his seat, he grabbed his carry-on and followed Al to the designated gate and their flight back to Albuquerque.

They'd been in the Nation's Capital for the past three days testifying before the senate sub-committee that was responsible for the continued funding for Project Quantum Leap. It was an annual affair where each year he and Al would have to fly out to DC and justify why the committee should keep funding the project with billions of dollars for another year. This was only the second time they'd had to do it but the whole process already had Sam dreading having to make the trip to Washington next year to do it again.

To make matters even worse, he'd woken up this morning feeling less than under the weather. His stomach felt like it was going to rebel at any minute. He was willing to bet it was the shrimp he'd eaten at the enforced dinner with Senator Weitzman. It didn't occur to him that Al, who'd also eaten the shrimp, seemed to be perfectly fine.

Holding out his boarding pass to the flight attendant at the door of the plane, he hoped it would be a smooth flight and he could just sleep through it. At least he'd finally reached the point where he could fly without needing something to calm his nerves. That hadn't been the case the first few times he'd flown after the plane crash in the Rockies two years ago. He wasn't happy to be flying, but at least he could do it without panicking now.

Stowing his carry-on in the overhead bin, Sam took the aisle seat next to Al. "You ok?" Al asked him once he'd put on his seatbelt. "You hardly ate anything at breakfast and you've been quiet all morning."

Sam tried to force a small smile on to his face to allay Al's worries. "Yeah. I just didn't sleep well last night, that's all and you know how all this begging for money gets to me."

"Yeah," Al snorted. "I do and that's why I wanted to know if something was wrong. You're never this quiet after going in front of the committee. I usually can't shut you up."

"I told you," was Sam's irritable response, "I didn't sleep well last night. Geez, is it a crime to be quiet."

"Ok, ok." Al raised his hands in surrender. "Forget I even said anything. Why don't you try taking a nap or something and then you won't be such a bear later."

Sam rubbed his hands over his face sorry to be taking his sore mood out on Al. He kept his eyes closed as he apologized. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I'm just tired."

Sam could feel the intense scrutiny Al was placing him under. "Don't worry about it," Al finally said. "Just take a nap and you'll feel better."

The pilot had just announced that they were over Pittsburgh when the plane bounced through a pocket of turbulence waking Sam up with a groan. Hearing the noise from the man beside him, Al glanced up from the file he was reading and in Sam's direction. "Some wake up call, huh?" he remarked.

Sam swallowed a few times before nodding his head and shifting restlessly in his seat. "Yeah, I guess so."

"You feeling any better?" Al asked curiously. To him, Sam looked worse than he had earlier. He had thought that a couple of hours sleep, even on a cramped, moving plane would have had some positive impact on his friend. Instead, Sam seemed even paler than he had earlier.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut briefly before answering. When he did, his voice was tight with barely controlled pain. "No. I feel even worse." He looked over to Al, his eyes wide. "I think we've got a problem, Al."

Hazarding a guess what that problem was by the looks of Sam; Al quickly lunged forward and plucked the airsickness bag out of the pocket of the seatback in front of him. He handed it to Sam just in time as the meager breakfast that the younger man had eaten made a very quick and sudden reappearance.

"I'm so sorry," Sam gasped out when he was done. He grasped the crumpled bag in his hand and slumped back in the seat.

"It's ok, Kid," Al comforted and reached up to ring for a flight attendant.

"No, Al, it's not ok," Sam forced out. "I don't think this is just a bug or food poisoning or something."

"What are you trying to say, Sam?" Al asked in growing alarm.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw going tight as the tried to ride out a wave of pain. "I think it's my appendix," he ground out.

"Your appendix?" Al questioned. "Are you sure, Sam? Didn't you have it out when you were a kid?"

"No, I didn't have it out when I was a kid. There was never any reason," Sam answered. "And yes, I'm as sure as I can be based on where the pain is and other symptoms."

"This isn't good, Sam." Al looked down to his watch mentally estimating how long it would be until the plane landed in Salt Lake City. "It's still almost five hours until we land."

Before Sam could respond to him, the flight attendant came over to the two men. "Can I help…" she began to ask before seeing the airsickness bag in Sam's hand. "Let me take that for you," she said sympathetically. Can I get you anything?"

Sam silently shook his head no.

"You think you can get a doctor?" Al asked with some small desperation in his voice.

"I am a doctor," Sam quietly reminded him.

Hearing the request for a doctor, the flight attendant squatted down in the aisle next to Sam. "Sir, is something wrong?" she asked in concern."

"Yeah," Al quickly answered. "My friend here is sick. He thinks it's his appendix."

"Oh. I'll let the pilot know right away. He should be able to clear us for an emergency landing." She started to get up and head toward the front of the plane.

Sam leaned forward and shot his hand out to stop her. "No. He doesn't have to do that."

"But Sir, if you're ill…."

"Really," Sam said flashing a reassuring smile. "I can hang on until we get to Salt Lake City. I'm a doctor and it's not serious yet."

The flight attendant patted Sam's hand lightly. "I still need to let the pilot know we have a sick passenger on board. I'll let him know you're a doctor and don't' think an emergency landing is necessary but he'll have to make the final decision." She smiled at Sam apologetically. "It's policy."

"I understand," Sam answered.

"Now, are you sure I can't get you anything?"

As she asked a shiver rippled through Sam's body. "How about a blanket?" Al suggested.

"Maybe two," Sam added when another, stronger shiver shook his body.

The flight attendant nodded to them and made her way up to the cabin of the plane.

Al waited until the flight attendant had moved up the aisle before addressing Sam again. "Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea if they landed this bird and we got you to a hospital sooner than later. Aren't you gonna need an operation or something to deal with this and isn't it really bad if it bursts."

When Sam answered Al he was slightly breathless from the pain he was in. "It's not at that stage yet. I can hang on to Salt Lake City." He looked around the plane at the other passengers, many of whom were staring at him - or trying not to - and had been since he'd first been ill. "I don't want to delay everyone else, Al. It wouldn't be fair to them. I can wait."

"Sam, you don't always have to be the martyr, you know. And how do you know just how bad it is. If it is your appendix, it could be ready to burst."

Sam tried to stifle a groan as another burst of pain ripped through him. "It's hurting too damned much right now to be burst, Al. Trust me on this." He turned pleading eyes on Al. "Please."

"It doesn't look like there's much else I can do. I just don't like the idea of you being in so much pain or taking a risk if you don't have to."

Just then the plane jerked as it went through another pocket of turbulence and the remaining color drained from Sam's face and he grabbed hold of Al's wrist and squeezed hard. "God, I hate this," he softly said.

The flight attendant returned just then carrying a couple of blankets and one of the small airline pillows. She crouched down next to Sam's seat again. "I just spoke with the pilot, Sir."

Giving the flight attendant a small smile, Sam gently corrected her. "Sam. You can call me Sam. Every time you call me 'sir' I keep expecting to see my father."

The flight attendant returned Sam's smile with one of her own. "I'm Lizzie. I just spoke to the pilot and apprised him of your condition. He's radioed in and he's going to try to land us in Detroit. It might not be possible, though. There's a pretty bad weather system covering most of the Midwest and it might prohibit a landing." As if to prove Lizzie's words, the plane bounced hard yet again.

Sam's eyes roamed about the aircraft as if he could see what was causing all the turbulence. "I guess that's why it feels like a roller coaster ride, all of a sudden," he commented with a weak chuckle.

"Unfortunately. There are several free seats in the back of the first class section. We can move you up there and you'll probably be more comfortable."

When Sam seemed to hesitate at the offer, Al jumped in. "That'd be great, Lizzie. Thanks a lot."

Lizzie stood up from her crouch and moved down the aisle to give Sam and Al room to exit their seats. Sam had to catch hold of the seat in front of him for support and wasn't able to straighten up fully. It was a short walk from their assigned seats to the first class seats Lizzie moved them to but Sam was only able to make it by leaning on each seat as he passed and with Al's support from behind. He murmured his apologies to the other passengers each time he would lean on the seatback.

When they got to the first class section, Sam slid into one of the empty seats on the left side of the plane near the window. Al took the seat next to him and accepted the blankets and pillow that Lizzie handed him.

"If you need anything at all just let any of the attendants on board know. They've all been apprised of the situation." Lizzie waited until both Sam and Al had thanked her before walking away.

"I wouldn't mind getting her phone number," Al commented as he watched Lizzie go up the aisle. A baleful look was the only response from Sam. "Right, not a good time for that, I guess." Al slid the pillow behind Sam and draped the two blankets over him. "Here, let me get it," he offered when he noticed Sam having difficulty fastening the seatbelt.

"Thanks," Sam said softly. "I can't seem to get my hands to want to work right now."

Once the seatbelt was fastened, Sam reclined the seat as much as he could and curled over slightly on his right side. "That's not helping, at all," he complained when the plane shuddered again.

"Why don't you try to go back to sleep again for a little while." Al suggested. He pressed the back of his hand to Sam's cheek which was sheened with perspiration. "You feel like you're running a little bit of a fever."

"Probably," Sam agreed. He grimaced as another wave of pain ripped across his abdomen. "On second thought, I hope they can land in Detroit. I don't think I can deal with this all the way to Salt Lake City."

Again Al suggested that Sam try to sleep. He was at a loss as to what else he could do for the younger man. Hopefully if he was able to sleep, he could escape from the pain for a little while.

Lizzie kept coming by to check on Sam and to give them updates. Unfortunately, the weather really was too bad for them to attempt a landing in Detroit. For the safety of all the passengers, they'd be flying on the Salt Lake City. She told them that the pilot had radioed ahead and there'd be emergency medical services waiting for them when they landed.

The inability to land in Detroit hadn't come as a surprise to Al. Though not severe, the turbulence they'd been experiencing had continued unabated for most of the trip. Unfortunately, even if it wasn't severe, it had been bad enough to prevent Sam for slipping into a deep sleep. He would get no more than 10-15 minutes of a restless doze and then be awake again. Finally, he gave up even trying and just stayed curled over in the same position.

"How you doin', Kid?" Al asked for what felt like the hundredth time. Each time he asked, he'd get the same answer from Sam, a slight shrug of one shoulder. There was no doubt the younger man was thoroughly miserable and they were still about another ½ hour away from Salt Lake City. Fifteen minutes previous, Sam had expressed the wish that the plane would just land so he could get off of it.

When he noticed a shiver run through Sam, Al pulled the blankets back up over his shoulders tucking them in place. It had been a back and forth thing for most of the flight where Sam would fluctuate between chills and then throw off the blankets complaining that he was hot. "We're almost there. Just hang on for a little longer."

Sam gave a small nod. "Yeah, I guess." He lapsed into silence for a few seconds before asking, "Can I have some water? I'm thirsty."

"Yeah, sure," Al replied grabbing the bottle off the fold down table and holding the straw that was in it to Sam's lips. Water was the only thing that Sam would take orally. He'd explained that it was most likely as soon as he got to a hospital he'd be taken to surgery so it was better that he didn't have anything in his stomach. He'd even refused the aspirin that Lizzie had offered in the hopes of reducing the pain and the fever.

When Sam had drunk his fill, which didn't amount to more than a few sips, Al returned the bottle to the tray table. As he did, he saw Lizzie coming in their direction again. "We're going to be going into our final descent in just a little while." She told them. "Sam, I know it may not be comfortable for you but I'm going to have to ask you to bring your seat up."

"Ok," Sam agreed and moved to bring the seat back to its upright position. He was unable to stifle the groan of pain when he did so or stop himself from grabbing Al's wrist and squeezing it weakly. He'd stayed very still since they had been moved to the first class section. He'd explained to Al that it just didn't seem to hurt as much if he didn't move.

"Easy, Kid. We're almost there." Al patted the hand that was still wrapped around his wrist. He diverted his attention to Lizzie, "There's going to be an ambulance there when we land, right?" he asked just to make sure there'd been no change in plans.

"It's already standing by," Lizzie responded. She picked up the nearly empty bottle of water from the tray table and flipped the tray back to its position. "I'll have to take this now. It should be about 15-20 minutes before we're on the ground."

Fifteen minutes later, the wheels of the plane touched down on the runway and they were taxiing to the gate. As they did so, the pilot came on over the PA system instructing the passengers that there was a medical emergency on board and requesting that everyone remain in their seats until the situation had been handled.

Once the plane stopped at the gate, the time that had dragged by so slowly on the flight seemed to speed up. As soon as the jet way was in place, two EMT's came through the door and were directed to where Sam was. Al had to move from his seat and into the aisle to give them room to reach Sam.

Just as quickly, they moved Sam from the plane. He was secured to a stretcher and they made their way to the ambulance. Al jogged along behind with them. He wasn't allowed to sit in the back of the ambulance with Sam but, instead, had to sit up front with the driver. He took the enforced separation as gracefully as possible. At least they were letting him go to the hospital with Sam and not making him wait back at the airport for a cab. Their luggage, along with their carry-ons, would be held by the airline at the airport – or at least Al hoped they would be.

Within 15 minutes, they pulled up in front of University Hospital. Sam was quickly taken to the emergency room and Al was directed to the waiting room. He'd just finished filling out the paperwork he was handed when a doctor appeared in the doorway asking if anyone was there with Sam. Al jumped up from his seat rushing over to the doctor. "I'm Al Calavicci. I'm a good friend of Sam's. How's he doing?"

The Doctor, Robertson according to his nametag, gestured for Al to join him in the corridor and out of the crowded waiting room. When they were standing in relative privacy in a corner of the corridor, Dr. Robertson briefed Al. "Mr. Beckett has been moved to surgery for an emergency appendectomy. He should be there for about an hour and then he'll be moved to recovery."

"An hour?" Al questioned. "I thought operations always took longer than that."

The doctor smiled slightly at him. "I don't want to say an appendectomy is routine, no surgery ever is, but it really doesn't take long at all. If you'd like, there's a waiting room on the 3rd floor where the surgical theaters are. You can wait up there for Mr. Beckett."

"Yeah, sure." Remembering the pile of papers he held, Al held them up the doctor, "I'll just drop these off and go up there. The third floor, you said."

"Yes, the third floor."

Al started to walk in the direction of the nurse's desk but turned back around to the doctor. "He is going to be ok, isn't he?"

"Barring any complications, Mr. Beckett should be released within a day or two and make a complete recovery."

Al nodded his thanks and resumed his walk to the nurse's desk. After dropping off the paperwork, he headed in the direction of the elevator and the third floor. It did cross his mind that he probably should call Thelma Beckett and let her know that her son was in the hospital. He discarded the idea temporarily. If everything was going to be as quick and routine as Doctor Robertson had said, Sam would be able to call her himself within a couple of hours and allay any of her worries before they could develop.

Al had been sitting in the surgical waiting room for just a little over an hour when a doctor dressed in surgical scrubs came in. "You're here for Sam Beckett, I'll assume," he asked.

"Yeah. Name's Al Calavicci. How's Sam doing?" Al rose from his seat extending his hand to the doctor.

"We've moved him to recovery. He came through the surgery with flying colors. He's lucky, though, if there'd been much more of a delay, the appendix most likely would have burst and we'd be looking a different story."

At the confirmation that Sam had weathered the surgery well, Al let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "How long until I can see him?"

The doctor pulled the surgical cap from his head and scratched at the back of his neck. "He's going to be in recovery for about an hour and then they'll move him to his room. If you'd like, I can have someone come and let you know when he's been moved."

Al started to nod his head in agreement when an idea came to him. "I don't suppose there's anyway I can see him now, is there?"

"I'm sorry, we don't allow visitors in the recovery room," the doctor began to say. He took a good look at Al and remembering that he'd been told his patient had been on a cross-country flight when he'd become ill. "I really am sorry, I wish I could take you back there to look in on him but hospital policy prohibits it. I can promise you that you'll be taken to his room as soon as he's been moved."

Al nodded again, it would have to do.

Once more, he sat in the waiting room for just a little over an hour when someone came to get him. It was a nurse by the name of Katy. For just a couple of seconds looking at her, Al almost forgot why he was at the hospital in the first place. She had to call his name twice before he finally paid attention to her. "I can take you to Mr. Beckett's room," she told him once she had his attention.

Sam's room was on the seventh floor. During the elevator ride from the third to the seventh, Al tried a little harmless flirting with Katy. There was no denying she was a looker. When they reached the door to Sam's room, he stopped the flirting becoming serious again. "Do you know if he's awake?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Katy answered. "He was still pretty groggy from the anesthesia when they moved him up here a little while ago so he might fade in and out for a while."

"Ok, thanks." Al pushed the door open and practically tiptoed up to the bed. If Sam was sleeping, he didn't want to disturb him. When he got his first look at the man in the bed he felt another wave of relief wash over him. When last he'd seen Sam, the younger man's face had been pinched in pain and he'd looked horribly ill. Now the pain was gone from his face and he looked like he was resting easily. Softly, Al rested his hand on Sam's forearm, noting how cool the flesh beneath his hand was.

As soon as he felt Al's touch, Sam's head slowly turned in the older man's direction and he blinked his eyes open. "Hey, Al," he drawled in a soft voice.

"Hey, yourself." Al also kept his voice soft. "How're you feeling?"

Sam paused, his brows drawing together as he thought about the question. "I kinda feel like they wrapped me up in cotton or somethin' and everthin's a little fuzzy." His speech came out slow and slightly slurred and remained soft.

Al laughed softly at Sam's description. "I think it's all the nice drugs they've been giving you."

"Oh yeah, I guess."

When Sam paused to swallow trying to work up some moisture in his mouth, Al looked around quickly and spotted a cup of ice chips beside the bed. Picking it up, he brought a spoonful of the chips to Sam's mouth, resting it on his lower lip. "Here, why don't you try some of these?"

Sam opened his mouth enough to allow the spoon's entrance. Al had thought he drifted off when his eyes slid closed and he stayed quiet. He was just ready to grab the chair from against the wall when he heard Sam's voice again. "Guess we're not gonna make it to Albuquerque today. Sorry about that."

"As long as you're ok, that's the important thing. I was just wondering. If you were sick before we left DC, why didn't you say anything to me? We could have gotten you to a hospital then and spared you the flight."

Sam took a deep breath before answering. "Didn't think it was bad then. I jus' thought it was the shrimp or something from dinner. Didn't realize 'til too late what was wrong."

"Just do me a favor next time, will ya? Don't wait 'til it's too late." When it didn't seem Sam was going to respond, Al went to retrieve the chair and brought it over to the side of the bed.

"Do you mind if I take a lil' nap?" Sam asked. His words had become even more slurred as he fought the siren song of sleep.

"No, Kiddo, you go on and sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

"'K," Sam breathed out.

It was only when Sam slipped into a deep, healing sleep and Al felt his own body relax that he realized just how tense he'd been since Sam admitted what he thought was wrong. Even after Sam had reassured him on the plane that it was likely that his appendix hadn't burst, Al had kept waiting for him to say that it had. He was no doctor but he knew if that had happened how dangerous it could have been for the younger man and from what the surgeon had said, it came really close to happening.

"Let's just make sure there is no 'next time'," he whispered to the sleeping figure.

Al was still in Sam's room when he woke again. He'd fallen asleep in the chair and the nurses hadn't had the heart to kick him out when visiting hours ended. He was still sleeping except he slouched over so that his neck was bent at an awkward angle. The chair was moved over close to the bed so he could rest one arm on the mattress.

Sam grabbed the arm Al had resting on the mattress and shook it. "Al? Wake up, Al."

After several calls of his name, Al jerked upright in the chair. "Wha? Whattsa matter? You ok, Sam? You need something?"

"I'm fine, Al. I don't need anything." Sam's voice was stronger than it had been before he'd fallen asleep. "You looked like you'd be sore when you woke up if you kept sleeping like that, that's all."

As Sam mentioned being sore, Al started rubbing the back of his neck. "Now that you mention it, I do have a crick in my neck." He smiled ruefully at Sam. "I guess this chair isn't the best place to sleep."

Sam looked over to the window and saw that full night had fallen but he was unable to gauge the actual time. "What time is it?"

Al looked down to consult the watch on his wrist. "Almost midnight. Why? You got a date you didn't want to tell me about. I mean, I've seen some of the nurses here so I wouldn't blame you if you did. There's this especially cute one, Katy. She's got some great…."

"Al!" Sam interrupted. "Can't you ever think of anything else?"

Al's expression became rather put-upon, although there was a mischievous gleam in his eye. "I was going to say bedside manners, if you must know." He pouted.

"I know exactly what you were **going** to say. Honestly, Al, don't you ever get that off your mind?"

Al smirked at Sam. "Not if I can help it."

Sam gave Al his patented "martyr look" as he squinted his eyes in the older man's direction and pressed his lips flat. He gave a little shake to his head and made an attempt to get the conversation back on track. "The reason why I was asking you what time it was is because you should probably find a hotel or something so you can get some sleep. First the flight and now you've been here with me all day. You must be exhausted."

Al turned serious again shrugging off Sam's concern. "I'm a little tired but it's nothing I can't handle. Besides, I promised you I'd be here when you woke and…"

"You never break your promises to me." Sam finished for him. "I know that and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. Now, though, I want you to get out of here. Go find a place to crash for the night and come back tomorrow morning." Al looked reluctant to leave. "I promise, I'm fine and I'm going to be fine. Now, go on and get some sleep and leave me to get some too." Sam made a shooing motion toward the door. "I'll see you tomorrow morning…or later this morning."

Reluctantly, Al got up from the chair. "Only if you're sure you're going to be ok." Seeing Sam's nod Al finally agreed to leave. "I'll admit, it'll feel good to get a hotel room and grab a shower." At the mention of the word 'shower' Al's face fell and he let out a soft moan.

"What's wrong?"

"I just remembered we don't have any luggage. Lizzie said they'd try to get it off the plane before it continued to New Mexico and the airline would hold it but there was no guarantee. I guess I'm going to have to go to the airport and see if they did get it."

"Don't bother going back to the airport," Sam suggested. "Find yourself a hotel room, call the airline from there and if they have it arrange for them to deliver it to you."

"You know, you're the one who's sick in bed and just had surgery. Why is it you're thinking clearer right now than I am?" Al questioned.

"Because," Sam started to explain, "I've had some sleep in a semi-comfortable bed. You haven't. Now go on before you fall over or something."

"Ok, ok, I'm going. I'll see you later this morning. I'd tell you to call me if you need anything but I have no idea where I'm going to be." Al started for the door to the room. "As soon as I find out, I'll leave word with the nurse's station.

Sam nodded his acknowledgement of Al's words and watched him leave. The small burst of energy he'd had when he woke up was already draining away leaving him with two things on his mind. Ring for the nurse and get something for the dull throb in his side and then go back to sleep.

Luck held out for both Sam and Al. The airline did have their luggage and was able to deliver it by late morning to the hotel Al had taken a room at. Al had also been fortunate to find a hotel within walking distance of the hospital. Once he'd called the airline and made arrangements for the luggage to be delivered, he stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt and crashed sleeping through the next 6 hours straight.

When he got back to the hospital it was already early afternoon. He was surprised to see Sam up and out of bed sitting in a chair by the window. The next day he received a second surprise when he arrived in Sam's room to find that not only was he sitting in the chair by the window but he was dressed and ready to leave the hospital. He was already making remarkable strides in his recovery and the doctor didn't see any reason to keep him any longer.

They stayed at the hotel for another week until Sam was both strong enough and well enough to make the final leg of their journey home to New Mexico. Sam was still walking in a slightly bent position to accommodate the recent surgery but he'd regained his color and appetite and was back to his old self.

Just before the plane took off, Al looked over to where Sam sat beside him leafing through a magazine totally unaware of the scrutiny he was being given. Al was thankful that the younger man was still there to be sitting next to him and that fate had seen fit to bring him through this crisis bent but not broken. Fate could be a fickle mistress and he couldn't help but wonder what she had lying in wait for both Sam and him in the future.

_Mile High _12 J.A. Moniz

3/22/2013


End file.
